


The Adventure of the Crimson Coat

by Squeakygeeky



Category: Sherlock Holmes - Arthur Conan Doyle
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Pirate, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-04
Updated: 2013-04-04
Packaged: 2017-12-07 10:21:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/747414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeakygeeky/pseuds/Squeakygeeky
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Pirates steal important naval documents.  When Watson is captured and forced to act as ship’s doctor, he must decide if Holmes is working against the captain for the sake of Britain...or for his own benefit.</p><p>A silly AU with a twist at the end.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Adventure of the Crimson Coat

**Author's Note:**

  * For [__marcelo](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=__marcelo).



If it wasn’t for the damned fog.  If it wasn’t for the damned shifting wind.

“Hard to port!”

“Captain, they’re gaining on us.”

It wasn’t as though he didn’t know that.  Though Red Jaspar’s ship was momentarily hidden by the fog, he could sense its presence.  They were gaining and they were going to catch up soon.  The _Halcyon_ was a fine ship, but she was built for speed, not power.  She was completely outgunned by the accursed _Raven Volant_.  They would put up a hell of a fight, but they would either be taken or sunk. 

Captain Roland hoped it would be the latter.

“Run out the guns.”

Though Red Jasper was known for letting captured civilians go, even letting them keep their ships if they didn’t give him too much trouble and he didn’t much care for the design, there was no way he would let a single British officer survive.  The men, either, unless some chose to turn pirate, which Roland liked to think would never happen.  And he’d much rather see the _Halcyon_ at the bottom of the sea than in the hands of that madman.

He knew his death was coming and he knew what it was his duty to accomplish before that happened.  Feeling infinitely detached from the chaos, he turned towards the hatchway.

No.  His duty to his country was not separate from or superseding his duty to his men.  Though the fighting had not yet begun, he could now see the pirate vessel with its black flag snapping in the wind that they had been unable to catch.  It would not do for the captain to be seen going below decks at a time like this.  He was no coward and would not be thought one. 

“Lieutenant Harris!”

“Sir?”

“Take this key and go immediately to my quarters.  Unlock the top drawer of my desk and remove the packet with the Admiralty seal.   I want you to immediately destroy—no.” 

There was still a chance that the wind would change and they could escape.  It was of the utmost urgency that the documents reached Britain, and he would never forgive himself if he allowed them to be prematurely destroyed.  Still, he knew that, once there was truly no hope, he would have to make sure they would never fall into enemy hands. 

“The packet.  Bring it to me Harris, quickly now.”

“Aye, aye, sir.”

 Harris disappeared below, and Roland returned his attention to the black ship before him.  It was getting ever closer.  With the aid of his spyglass, he could clearly make out the bright crimson coat that signaled the presence of the infamous pirate captain on its deck.

 They were already exchanging fire when Harris returned.

 “Sorry for the delay sir, the lock, it—“

 “Never mind that, Lieutenant,” Roland snapped, grabbing the packet.  “They’re preparing to board.”

 Harris ran off and Roland went to the lantern.  It was time.  He unsheathed his sword in preparation for battle and with his left hand held the packet up to the flame.

 It was only after he watched the precious documents fall to the deck and slide away that he realized his arm was bleeding.

 Roland looked up and saw that the pirates were already overwhelming his crew through force of numbers and sheer ferocity.  Red Jaspar was walking across the deck as if he owned the ship already, and most likely he did.  His red hair flew wildly around his head, only partly tamed by the presence of an enormous black hat.  His beard also shone red, a fiery contrast with the blood red of his coat.  His arm was upraised and his pistol smoking.

***

“Sounds like a hell of a good shot, Captain,” said Carter, interrupting Red Jaspar’s story of the capture.

“Actually, Carter, I was aiming for his heart.”

 Carter, a lean man entirely in black, laughed.  “I’m not sure which I find harder to believe: that you would miss or that you would be humble about it.”

 The men sitting around the moonlit deck of the _Raven Volant_ grinned at each other and took advantage of the break in the narrative to pass around some more grog.

 “Let me get back to my story, Carter.

 “So, the man’s been shot, but he straightens up anyway, and challenges me.  ‘Fight me man to man,’ he says.  The flames are just licking the edge of the packet, and I can see all he needs is a little more time and it’ll be destroyed.  I can practically see him thinking, so I know whatever it is has got to be important.  ‘You’re no true captain,’ he shouts, trying to distract me, knocking the lantern to the deck, which begins to blaze.  He raises his sword and—“

 “Can’t believe he said that to you, Cap’n.  Wish I’d a seen you teachin’ him a lesson,” chimed Riggs, pretty well sloshed and even more excitable than usual.

 “Oh, I taught him a lesson, all right,” said Jaspar, grinning and exchanging significant glances with the few members of his crew that had witnessed it.

 “I threw my pistol to the ground, drew my sword...and with my left hand I drew my other pistol and shot him through the heart.”

 “And just what kind of lesson was that, Captain?” asked Carter, raising an eyebrow.

 “Why, Carter, the lesson was that I’m ambidextrous.  All the best pirates are.”

 Carter looked away for a moment, still following the tale closely, and saw a figure over by the mast, nearly hidden in shadow.  The doctor was watching again.

 “And the best part was that the old fool fell right on the fire and on top of his precious documents--they were barely singed.”

 “What was they, Cap’n?”

 “None of your business, Riggs,” said Jaspar reaching his had up to his vest, then plunging it into his pocket and brining out his pipe.  “Consider them insurance, though.  I know you’re all unhappy with the take from the last ship, but as soon as I find the right buyer, we’ll have enough hard, shiny gold to get us through to the next catch.”

 “Now, Captain, not that I’d ever question you, but I think you’d agree that the whole crew has got a right know the nature of that thing you took, and just what it’s worth.”

 “Who asked for your opinion, Scorey?” said Red Jaspar, losing his hearty air, and sounding as dangerous as a sudden gale.  “You’ll all get your fair share.”

 Carter turned back and looked sharply at Scorey.  “We’re doing a hell of a lot better than I ever did under the captain of the _Sumatra_.  You should have more faith in your captain.”

 “And why should we trust a newcomer like you?” said Scorey, preparing to rise. 

 Red Jaspar reached out and pushed him back down.  Scorey subsided, as would anyone with at least the mental capacity of a sea cucumber, whatever his concerns.  Red Jaspar was not a man to cross, certainly not on the deck of his own ship.  And it was true that they were doing better than a lot of pirate crews.

 “Might I remind you ragged louts that this man nearly lost his life for me, and after only a few weeks under my command too.”

 The deck was silent for a moment.  Out of the corner of his eye, Carter could see the doctor slip belowdecks.

 “Come, another round of drink.  Carter, go get yer fiddle and play us something rousing,” said Jaspar, regaining his good cheer.

 “Aye, Captain.”

 Carter got his instrument, and started a reel.  He wasn’t exactly waiting for it, but he did notice when the doctor put his head above decks once again. The doctor was watching Carter. Again.

 Even in the middle of playing, in immanent dander off having a drunken pirate come careening into him with an overenthusiastic rum-induced attempt at a jig, he couldn’t help but think back to when the doctor had come aboard...in chains.

  _“Yer a doctor, right?”_

_The prisoner nodded.  “Dr. John Watson,” he said, nervously._

_Red Jaspar walked over and loomed menacingly._

_“Right.  We need a doctor, and when we need something, we take it.  One of my men was hurt in the fight to take yer ship.  I’ve got a simple deal for you.  If he lives, you become the newest member of our crew.  If he dies, we toss you overboard.”_

_“And if I don’t want to turn pirate, even if I do save this man?”_

_“Oh, I think you’ll come to see the attraction of our way of life.  Or you’d best get real good at swimming, Doc._

_Carter was listening.  He was also probably dying, but he was hoping that wasn’t going to happen, so he figured it was in his best interest to keep listening. Unfortunately, he didn’t remain conscious enough to hear what the doctor decided._

_Even more unfortunately, he happened to wake up while the doctor was removing the bullet and sewing him up, rather than conveniently after._

_“So, you’ve chosen piracy, then?”_

_“I’ve chosen not to let you die.  That’s all.”_

 Carter shook off the memory, and looked up to find that the doctor had disappeared.  He continued playing until the revelry died down, and then took the now habitual route to go find the doctor.

 Except for the small night watch, everyone on board was sleeping...or passed out. In sickbay, Watson was sitting up with a lantern turned down low, staring into space.

 “You know, it wasn’t very smart of you to turn down a share of the booty.  If you do that, you’ll stay an outsider.”

 Watson jumped and nearly fell out of his chair.

 “I’m not a pirate.”

 “Well, you’re certainly no sailor.  But you’ve been the ship’s doctor for a while now, and you’ve certainly shown yourself perfectly adept at treating pirates.”

 “Out of duty to my Hippocratic oath.”

 “Out of fear.  You just don’t want to die.  If you’d been brought aboard to be one of the hands, wouldn’t you be doing your job, just like any good little pirate?”

 “I’m not a pirate and never will be.  That’s why I won’t take any gold.”

 “That’s hypocritical.  You earned it with the work you do.  The only true choice is to take the money and become a pirate in name as well as action, or stop providing services.”

 “And what?  Let men die?  Should I have let you die?  Why do you keep coming down here to talk to me if you think I’m such a damn hypocrite?”

 “More quietly, doctor,” said Carter, and only then did Watson realize he was standing and his voice was raised.  Carter came closer and Watson took an involuntary step backwards.

 “You are a coward,” whispered Carter.  “Make a choice.”

 “Who the hell are you to judge?  I’ve seen what you’ve done; know who you’ve killed and how Red Jaspar probably wouldn’t have taken the last ship without your help.  I know you’ve saved his life, and I also know you’re probably just biding your time to kill him and take over.  Isn’t that what you want?  His famous hidden hoard of treasure?  Being _brave_ enough to risk your life in battle to kill others because of your own grade doesn’t make you a better person, even if I am afraid for my life.”

 “A former military doctor admits he’s afraid?”

 “How did you know that’s what I—“

 “Never mind.”

 There was a quiet hiss of metal, and Carter’s blade was at Watson’s throat.  “Look, it’s very simple.  I do want to get rid of Red Jaspar.  I could use your help.  You must be able to concoct a good poison.  Help me, and you can become a famous and wealthy pirate, and you won’t even have to get your hands dirty outside of surgery.  Refuse and I’ll slit your throat.”

 Watson couldn’t hear anything but the sound of his own breathing.  He decided that he wasn’t a coward after all, and he wasn’t a pirate either.

“No.”

“No?” 

“Go ahead and kill me.  It’s probably one of the more honorable ways out of this situation.”

“Good man,” said Carter, sheathing his saber.  “As it so happens, I have an even better way out.”

“Wha--?” 

“Do you consider yourself a loyal British subject?  Would you be willing to perform a service to the crown, even at significant personal risk?”

“I—I, yes, I would.  But, what it the world?  Who are you?”

“Look, I’ll try to explain quickly.  My name is not Carter, but Sherlock Holmes.  I have no official ties to the government, but occasionally I am engaged for certain...special...services.  Things no other man could manage.  And in this case, I fear I cannot manage alone. 

“Shortly before you were captured, and before I came aboard, Red Jaspar and his crew were desperate enough to attack a naval ship.  After murdering nearly the entire crew, they made off not only with the stores, but also with a packet containing documents that would fetch a great price from Britain’s enemies and cause many problems for our nation.  Red Jaspar hasn’t gotten a buyer yet, but we’ll be reaching land tomorrow, and I need to make my move.  For that, I will need your help.

“Getting the documents shouldn’t be too hard.  Red Jaspar isn’t nearly paranoid enough.  Even killing him isn’t the real problem.  The problem will be getting the packet off the ship successfully. That’s where you come in.  I create a distraction so that you can leave unnoticed and all I ask of you is that you deliver the documents into the proper hands.  There’s quite a bit of dissention among the crew, more than Red Jaspar notices.  I think I’ll be able to gain control, and once we make port, I’ll just disappear.” 

Watson frowned. “Leaving aside that this does not sound like the most foolproof of plans, there’s the part where you are deliberately lying to me.  I’ve found out exactly when you came aboard, and there’s no way you could have known about these papers beforehand.  News of the _Halcyon’s_ fate had only just reached shore when my own ship left port.  How do I know you don’t simply want my help to gain control of the ship and access to Red Jaspar’s legendary treasure?”  

“For one thing, you’ll be the one in control of the ultimate fate of these documents, and for another, you won’t be helping me in any way other than by escaping this ship, which is what you want, isn’t it?  For the rest, you’ll just have to trust me.”

 The two men stared at each other for a long moment.  

“All right, Carter, I’ll help you,” said Watson.

 “It’s Holmes.” 

 “Holmes.”

 “Actually, you’re right about one thing.  I was initially engaged to find Red Jaspar’s hoard for the local governor.  But as soon as I came aboard and heard about the capture of the Halcyon, I changed my purpose.”

 Holmes disappeared, but momentarily put his head back inside the door, something that was almost amusement sparking in his silver grey eyes.

 “Besides, one of the first things I deduced was that the fabled treasure is, indeed, nothing more than a fable.”

***

 Watson watched nervously as Carter—Holmes—walked across the deck, and over to where Red Jaspar stood at the tiller. 

 “You know, Captain, the crew doesn’t like what you’ve been up to lately and neither do I.”  He didn’t seem to be speaking loudly, but his voice carried clearly, and everyone stopped what they were doing to watch the confrontation.

 “Oh, and you think you could do better, eh?”  Red Jaspar handed the tiller over to Scorey with exaggerated slowness, and moved to face his challenge. 

 “Frankly, yes.”

 Red Jaspar pulled out both his pistols.  “Have you been plotting mutiny behind my back this whole time, you dog?”

 “Mutiny would imply that the rest of the crew is with me.  They like you, Jaspar, but they think you’ve gone a bit soft.  If you win I bet they’ll be more loyal to you than ever.  If you lose, on the other hand...oh, by the way, I wouldn’t bother trying to shoot me.  They’re not loaded.”

 Red Jaspar hadn’t become a pirate captain by being a complete fool.  Instead of checking his guns, he tried aiming at his opponent’s heart and shooting.

 Of course, Holmes hadn’t become—whatever it was Holmes _was_ just by bluffing.  Nothing happened, and Red Jaspar had to abandon his pistols for his sword in order to avoid being run through. 

 He was an able swordsman, despite his preference for more effective means of killing, and the two dueled back and forth across the deck.  Red Jaspar nearly stabbed Holmes through the heart, but he parried effectively and made a riposte to Jaspar’s head.  It was only a feint though, because when the redhead moved to block, Holmes got in a quick cut to his side.  It was only a flesh wound, and the fight continued. 

 Watson forced himself to be calm, and climbed below decks without anyone sparing him a second glance.  He managed to grab his pack and bring it above without anyone noticing either, and, more impressively, without anyone noticing him stashing it in a boat, which he lowered into the water. 

 Or at least, it would have been very impressive if it hadn’t been for the fact that every single member of the pirate crew had his eyes turned skyward, as Red Jaspar and Holmes had somehow managed to take their fight up into the rigging, their forms silhouetted against a bloody sunset.

 They were high above the deck, and Red Jaspar managed to slash through one of the lines, forcing Holmes to grab on with his right hand.  Jaspar moved in for the kill. Watson looked on in horror.  He needed to get going, now, but Holmes’s foot seemed tangled, and things were not looking good.  Still, Holmes had managed to retain hold of his saber and transferred it into his left hand. 

 Clutching the documents that Holmes had stolen along with the ammunition—how Holmes had managed that one would eternally remain a mystery—Watson lowered himself into the boat and cast himself free.  As he drifted away from the ship, he saw Holmes suddenly stab Jaspar right through the heart and though he heard distantly, “All the best pirates.”

 But in the next instant, as Holmes moved to descend, he didn’t quite get his foot free, and slipped, catching himself briefly, before falling with a splash into the ocean. 

 Watson watched in horror, as did all the pirates who had run to peer over to the side, but he never surfaced.  Watson stared back at the ship knowing that even though it was steadily getting darker, he would soon be spotted, and they would inevitably chase him down.  But even as he continued watching, there were no signs of pursuit. 

 “No, they’re not going to follow.  I believe they’re all too busy fighting over the red coat—and by extension, who will be captain next.”

 “Holmes!”

 The lean man was out of breath, but hiding it well.  He tossed his saber into the boat and pulled himself in.

 “Besides, they won’t be able to follow us at night, and in the morning we can row to shore.  We’re actually very close to land.”

 “And then?” asked Watson, terribly relieved, and hiding it badly.

 “We make sure that those documents get back into British hands where they belong.  No, no.  Why don’t you hold onto them,” said Holmes as Watson reached into his breast pocket for them.

 “And then?”

 Holmes shrugged.  “I assume you have a life to be getting back to.”

 “Not really, no.  I’ve no close relatives, no sweetheart waiting for me.  Even returning to England seems...boring, at this point.”

 “Well, in that case, there has been a report of some trouble on an nearby island with--

 ***

 “Good God, Watson.  What the devil are you scribbling away at over there?”  Sherlock Holmes paused with a test tube over a beaker and turned around to stare at his old friend frantically moving pen over paper.

“Why, nothing, Holmes.  Nothing at all.”  Watson stopped writing and ruffled the papers a little nervously.  It was obviously not nothing, and a person didn’t need to be the world’s greatest detective to figure that out.  He went back to writing more slowly, and Holmes turned back to his experiment.

After a few minutes, Holmes heard Watson put away whatever he’d been writing in the third-to-last file in the second drawer. 

“Goodnight, Holmes.”

“Goodnight, Watson,” he answered. 

It would be an easy matter to go over and have a look, without Watson ever knowing.  Watson surely knew that as well and whatever he’d been writing couldn’t possibly be terribly private, or he would have taken it with him to his own room.  But of course, Holmes wouldn’t pry.  They wouldn’t have managed to live harmoniously at 221b Baker Street if they didn’t have proper respect for each other’s boundaries and Watson had always trusted Holmes, no matter what difficult situation Holmes had placed him in as part of an investigation.  Good old Watson, trusting and trustworthy—what had he been writing?  Well, if Watson didn’t want to tell him, it was hardly his business, and if Watson let a clue slip about it in the next few days, it would hardly be Holmes’s fault if he figured it out.  There was nothing for it but to finish up his tests and go to bed himself. 

And yet--

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for the the Swashbucklathon exchange over at Livejournal. Thanks to my dear friend Starfish for beta reading.


End file.
